


hard feelings / loveless

by samarskite



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Break Up, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samarskite/pseuds/samarskite
Summary: When they tell you a lover feels the same after years you haven't touched and kissed them, don't believe them. It'll be a lie. Don't let yourself be fooled by superficial tastes: cigarette, alcohol, their toothpaste. It'll be a lie altogether.In which Grantaire and Enjolras, after two years, are new theirselves.





	hard feelings / loveless

As soon as he arrives to the party, Grantaire disappears. 

Enjolras looks for him in every room of Courfeyrac's house, until he finds Grantaire on the third spare bedroom's balcony. He's smoking a cigarette and his shoulders look tense.

Enjolras knocks on the window pane and when Grantaire acknowledges his presence but doesn't react, he steps beside him on the balcony.

They stay quiet for a while.

“It was bound to happen, sooner or later”, Enjolras says quietly, his voice so small and thin he doesn't recognise himself. That's what Grantaire made to him through the years: he thought his voice and his rage and his eloquence would be able to get him anywhere, through anything; Grantaire taught him that this is not how it works. Grantaire taught him that sometimes you have to whisper in order to be listened to, and sometimes you even have to not say anything at all. Sometimes, being speechless is what it's needed, if you want to do the right thing.

“It was not”, Grantaire snarls, and he sounds angry, but not at Enjolras. “I had everything under control. I had everything scheduled. I could keep going forever. Courfeyrac fucked up because he's a piece of shit”.

“He just wants to help”, Enjolras says, and thinks with sadness about the pack of cigarettes he left in his bag for the night. 

“Well, I don't want to be helped. And hell is going to freeze before I'll ever see _you_ asking for help, so I don't know where the fuck he got the idea this was going to turn out well”, Grantaire replies, and throws away his finished cigarette, then lights up another one. 

“We're talking, aren't we? I bet he'd consider it a success already”, Enjolras points out, nodding eagerly when Grantaire offers his packet. 

Grantaire shrugs. “I was doing well, wasn't I, Apollo? It's been two years and we've seen each other four times. I am great at this”.

Enjolras suddenly wishes he hadn't accepted the cigarette. That, and Grantaire's words, taste bitter on his tongue. “Am I that revolting to you now? You have to abandon your friends and work yourself to death in order to avoid me, didn't think my vision would be that disturbing”.

Grantaire lets out a humourless laugh: “Don't play the martyr complex, Enjolras. We both know it doesn't suit you”.

Enjolras finds himself frowning. “I really am not. It was a serious question. I can't be enough of a reason to make you stop hanging out with your friends. You came tonight because you thought I wouldn't be coming, am I right?”.

For the first time in two years, Grantaire actually turns to look at him; Enjolras is already staring. “Yeah”, he says, looking like he's actually thinking about it. “Yeah, you're right. You see, my school of thought is that you are what your friends and your lovers are. It's emotional osmosis. You pick up ideas, reasonings, mannerisms, without even realising. You didn't like me much when I was part of your group, at university, and you were like eighty percent of my consideration of myself, so I figured I'd just — slip out. Change my being. My form”.

Enjolras feels his cheeks flush. “We were together for four years, I fucking loved —”.

Grantaire laughs and clicks his tongue. “Nah, Apollo. Don't play that card. You liked me when I was cooperative, and sober, and I got good grades. Which _wasn't Me_ at the time. And I liked you when you were an enraged god, and brutally honest, and capable of being terrible, which You were, but it wasn't what I _needed_ at the time”.

Enjolras thought that whatever reason Grantaire would've given him for their breakup, he would've scoffed and dismissed it as idiotic. He finds out that it's not.

“And what is You now?”, he ends up asking, the capital Y poignant and clear but not mocking.

Grantaire throws away his second cigarette, and meditates. “My Me is steadier. Clean. Prone to heartbreak as always, but not prone to kneel down and polish anyone's boots anymore”. He pauses. “I've been told I am not fragile, but I don't deserve harsh. I deserve tender. Anyone deserves tender”.

Enjolras keeps quiet and finishes his cigarette in silence. After two or three minutes, Grantaire offers: “You deserve tender, too”.

This time, the humourless laugh is Enjolras'. “Do I? I don't think I do. And even if I admitted I could, your actions would disprove the hypothesis”.

Grantaire bites his lower lip, and stands up from the wall he was leaning on beside Enjolras, placing himself in front of him instead. “What can I say? Sorry I was never good like you. Never good at valuing stuff”.

Suddenly, Enjolras feels angry. “Oh, _who is_ playing the martyr complex now, Grantaire? You say you deserve tender? I'll give you tender”, he says, standing straighter but still leaning on the wall. “I loved you, and this not a stupid card to be played. For fuck's sake, I probably still do, since I've tried to date five different people in two years and they always were too boring, not enough curly, excessively kind, not enough witty, and they never smelled like paint and I fucking hated that. I hated it.” He gulps down a mouthful of air, and is vaguely aware he must look mad. “You say I was a god and I was too harsh? A fucking shame, looks like someone pushed me down the pedestal and turned me human instead, because I don't stand alone anymore. I, myself, am not sufficient. I need people. I need my friends, I need my colleagues. I used to need you”.

He pauses. “I think I still do”.

Grantaire stares at him, his face unreadable. “That was not even remotely tender”, he states, and it looks like a smile is threatening to tug the corner of his lips. “Not even close”.

Enjolras' breath feels slightly ragged. “The sentiment was there”, he says. “But I'll admit it wasn't my best rhetoric”. 

“I tried three”, Grantaire says, apparently without any logic at all. But then, he elaborates: “None of them enough _you_. Not enough well spoken, or enough caring. None of them read the French Civil Code in bed, or Cicero. A piece of you would've been enough, but I found none”. He shakes his head. “I tried to find something, but I couldn't — I didn't —”.

Enjolras tugs him in a kiss.

He has kissed different mouths in his life, and each one of them has always tasted different. This makes no exception. He slides his tongue slightly, then licks in his mouth. This Grantaire is less messy, less desperate, less chaotic; more methodical, more heated, more aware and secure. 

When they tell you a lover feels the same after years you haven't touched and kissed them, don't believe them. It'll be a lie. Don't let yourself be fooled by superficial tastes: cigarette, alcohol, their toothpaste. It'll be a lie altogether. 

“What are we doing, Enjolras?”, Grantaire asks, but he doesn't move his hands away from Enjolras' right hip, or from his left cheek, as he ducks his head just slightly enough to not be kissing Enjolras' lips again.

“Trying to figure out if your You likes my Me and vice versa”, Enjolras answers, failing at hiding a small smile. “I've been liking your You so far”, he says then, and kisses Grantaire again.

Grantaire doesn't say it back. But his hold on Enjolras' hip gets tighter, his kisses deeper and he doesn't pull away, doesn't run away like he used to; he stays. 

 

Enjolras figures it's enough of an answer. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't particularly like Lorde's new album, but Hard Feelings / Loveless and Writer In The Dark make me really sad and I needed a study break, so I wrote this. Hope you enjoy.
> 
>  You can find me at [obscuriae](http://obscuriae.tumblr.com/)


End file.
